There they sat, mother in her late 30s and child at no more than 10 years old, conversing at a volume level that one couldn’t entirely ignore in an otherwise quiet coffee shop. The mother was sharing stories of her ex-boyfriends with her daughter. The child interrupts, “I see that look of longing in your eyes.”
“The one who got away,” the mom sighs.
The girl looks concerned before pleading, “I don’t want him to take you away from your beau.”
“No, he’s long gone now,” the mom utters with unconcealed regret.
As the hour goes by, the child is also shared the story of the Charles Manson cult and various Stephen King synopses by the mother whose shirt does not properly contain her breasts.
It’s an odd spectacle, but it can’t be too far outside what has become typical. The relationship wasn’t of parent-and-child, but was more indicative of a friend talking to a peer. There was no attempt to protect the innocence of the child, or to simply treat the child as such. These seem to be bygone concepts now.
There’s something so wrong with this picture, yet it’s often considered virtuous in the modern world to treat one’s child as if there’s no distinction between us—treating the child as just another friend in a series of them, or worse yet—as one’s personal therapist. Doing so actually means denying the child what she needs most: parents. A child should be made to feel safe in her home, with her parents. That couple should be the constant in her life that she does not doubt, and in which she feels safe. The “sharing” by the aforementioned mother was merely a protracted way of telling the child that she is unsafe, and that her circumstances are volatile and unstable. It’s the opposite of what a parent ought to be instilling.
Under the pretense of helping children by not being like the ‘rigid’ and ‘authoritarian’ parents of bygone eras, we deny them the protection that they need and deserve. They are denied the things that make us feel safe and give us an understanding of our place in the world: a functioning hierarchy and a sense of an ordered existence.
An expansion of this ideology about youth is that we pretend that children know more than they do, and that their decisions reflect well-reasoned, experienced judgments. Hence, the political movements to lower the voting age and to encourage children to mutilate themselves when they are confused about their sex. Ironically, at a time when scientific research on the brain has shown us how the (decision-making) prefrontal cortex of children is literally still growing until about age 25, we assume on the social level that children can make irreversible decisions, and we increasingly burden them with adult problems.
A child like the one described earlier obviously does not have the mother-father dynamic that she ought, and perhaps will never know what that’s supposed to be like. Sure, she can read about healthy families later, and the differences that it makes in one’s development, if she decides to read through some psychology journals later in life. But she’ll never know what it would have been to have a stable home with a father that she can depend on, and there’s a tragedy in that privation. It’s shameful on behalf of parents who voluntarily put their children in such situations.
There’s a further privation in that the daughter isn’t experiencing a true childhood — truly, a time of blissful ignorance. It seems naive to think that this method of raising children by acting like they’ve already been raised won’t have consequences. What is it to have never known innocence? To have no blissful memories of joyful play to look back on, and to therefore desire to hand on those experiences of levity to one’s posterity. There’s something pure about not knowing how bad the world is, and how bad people can be. Hence why throughout Christendom, we have desired to protect that in children.
Perhaps, a child can handle the story of the Charles Manson cult, but should she have to? Should we encumber young children with horrific realities, beyond what they need to stay safe? Is there no cause to protect? But we don’t value the innocent or the good anymore. In a relativistic world that condemns only those who condemn, it’s considered offensive to value the pure. That’s judgemental, after all. Who would want to protect innocence except someone with an old-fashioned sensibility about virtue and purity?
By heralding vices as expressions of ‘freedom’, we fail to see virtue or innocence as worth protecting. Instead, we mire what is good and call it progress. Our devaluing of childhood and children is a reflection of the perverse elevation of vice. It is an enactment of the urge to pull the innocent down to where we are, lest they remind us where we ought to be (Matthew 18:3-5). It’s not a moral act to taint a child, but an evil one that is bourne from the refusal to see the grotesque in one’s reflection.
Children don't have life experiences, or at least hopefully don't have life experiences, requisite to properly cope with such topics. Consequently they tend to follow the lead of the adult presenting the topic when choosing how to act. Groomers frequently take advantage of this trait in children. Parents who love their children try to install the sense of a loving and safe environment in their young, a sense from which they can draw comfort when confronted with difficulty in life. Christians are able to teach their children about the ultimate source of peace, Christ.
I'm 70 and my mother and father were both kind and loving parents but they made sure not to spoil us. I remember as a toddler being included in the family chores as a fun game to be included in. Soon I was challenged by my Dad once around 5 or 6 when he was taking out the trash and I was going with him and he asked if I was strong enough to carry the trash to the cans. I said yes I was strong enough, the trash bag was heavy for me but my Dad was cheering me along all the way. I remember being out of breath but feeling satisfied I was able to do it. Guess who got the task of taking the trash to the cans after that. Once many weeks later my Dad observed me dragging the trash cans up to the back porch and putting the trash in the cans and then drag the cans back down the driveway to the curb. He asked why I did that and I said "It's easier to drag the cans because they have a handle." He laughed and said why don't you put the trash in the large toy wagon we had and that might be easier. I took the trash down since then in the wagon. Birthdays was one big present and ice cream and cake, sometimes in addition to the big present my mom would include school clothes as my birthday came just before school started in the fall. Christmas was a big deal! Getting the tree was a family affair and everyone got a voice in which tree to get and we all helped tying it to the roof of the car. We put the tree up but did not decorate it until December 23rd as a family and we sang Christmas carols all while decorating it, big fun even in my teen years. Being Irish Catholic we went to midnight mass except for my Dad who never went(because he stayed behind to put all the presents under the tree and assembly any toys that needed it.) and when we returned everything was in place, Santa had come while we were at mass and everything looked beautiful. We were allowed to open one small gift and then to bed. Both of my parents grew up in the great depression and both were veterans of WWII and their Christmas's growing up were not as jolly as the ones they provided for their children. I remember once at 18 I asked my mom once what was the best Christmas gift she got as a child. She replied an orange. I was about to laugh but I saw her looking like she was going to tear up so I stopped held her hand and said I was sorry. She then told me with a smile that having the big Christmas was as much fun for her and my Dad as it was for us! I remember my Dad's words of advice he said a few times "I'll not handicap my children by making life easy for them." We got no weekly allowance for doing household chores, that was doing our part as a family member. If I wanted spending money I had to make it myself. Lucky for me I lived in the times of glass bottles and you could get a nickel for each bottle until they lowered the refund to two cents. I remember well using that wagon to walk up and down the road looking for pop bottles and always finding plenty. Back in those days to sound like an old foggie I could redeem 5 pop bottles and in return get 25 cents with which I could purchase a 10 cent comic book, a 5 cent 7 ounce coke, a 5 cent chocolate bar and a pack of bubble gum. I also collected wild blackberries and sold them to neighbors. As I got older I mowed lawns, shoveled driveways, cleaned gutters, baled hay, broke colts and many other jobs while growing up. Not once did I ever feel I was deprived of anything nor did I envy my friends who didn't have to do these things for money. I took great pride in knowing I earned the money in my pocket and no one just gave me a handout or allowance of performing household chores. It wasn't all work for me I played all the sports though junior high and through high school but I always found the time to put a little cash in my pocket. Ramblings from an old man and USMC veteran looking back on his years growing up and feeling great pride in knowing I had the best childhood anyone could have had. The following generations I pity not knowing the joy I experienced and the simple joys they will never know because they all keep looking for the next best thing. Thanks for reading this entire post, LOL, I know most won't!